


Odyssey

by ShowMeAHero



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Adventures, Book - Freeform, Continuation, Crew Dynamics, Epic, F/M, Five-Year Mission, Gen, Injury, M/M, More Tags To Come As More Is Written
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 09:38:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/835453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShowMeAHero/pseuds/ShowMeAHero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The crew of the USS Enterprise take on their five-year mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I am writing this as a book that is meant to fit into canon right after the events of 'Star Trek Into Darkness', so there will be spoilers.
> 
> Yes, I am writing this as a book, so expect random and changing amounts of time between chapters, excessive description, much editing and revising, a lot of research and detail, et cetera, et cetera. I also created my own alien race for this, but don't worry, I did research for that, too. All I've been doing lately is writing and research, it seems.
> 
> Enjoy!

Hitzeatur was a very small planet, smaller than most others under the Federation’s protection. It lay securely between Andor and the empty space where Vulcan had once been, a tiny sphere spinning around in the Beta Quadrant. It had three suns, ruby red and nearly sparkling, which rose and set in such a way that night was impossible and unheard of to the Hitzeaturoids.

The Hitzeaturoids themselves had long since evolved to adapt to the conditions of their desert planet. They had hardy skin the dark, rich color of their lands, with the same texture as the tiny granules of sand which made up their planet’s surface. They were tall, and thin, though they possessed incredibly short arms. The heat on Hitzeatur was hotter than most, if not all, humans could handle; even Vulcans wore lighter clothing when they had been involved with dealing with the native Hitzeaturoids on the home planet. The lack of water on the hot surface led to a lack of vegetation in general. The only plant life in sight was large fronds which could best be imagined if one looked at Terran prehistoric plant life. The Hitzeaturoids made their huts out of the tremendous leaves of the few plants they found.

The Hitzeaturoids evolved in such a way that the lack of water was handled by the mountainous humps on their backs which stored water. When they walked, they did so hunched over, the hump on their backs forcing them over in order to bear the weight. They had long, thin, white-blue hair which fell in tangles over their painted skin. There were symbols painted here and there on their skin, tribal symbols of various colors which meant fertility, goodwill, and other such wishes and prayers. They were well-equipped to handle their planet’s extreme heat.

Early tribal races were not to be interfered with. No matter how they acted, the Hitzeaturoids were not to be influenced. They were a cannibalistic race; they were less than advanced, and the majority of their men were warriors. They possessed a hierarchy which featured a hierarchy that reached from their _kooginn_ , their king, all the way down to their _bueran_ , their peasant group. What was perhaps most fascinating was that no one in the tribal race took a mate. They were of the belief that all of them belonged to all of the others, and were free in their relations. They were not empaths, nor were they telepaths, but they were tactile creatures.

The Hitzeauroids had faces quite similar to those of humans, though their eyes were longer, slimmer, and they had three sets of eyelids, designed to keep sunlight and sand out of them. Their noses were pressed flat to their faces, close underneath their eyes, and their mouths were wide and dark, set further down, away from their nose, close to their sharp chins. They had angular features, and curved ears, though most of that was hidden by their light tangles of hair.

One of the _kooginn_ ’s _bearaterrez_ , or, rather, one of his advisors, saluted his _kooginn_ before stepping up to him. Their language sounded rather guttural and harsh, and they spoke quickly, their thin tongues darting out between their sharp dark teeth as they spoke. The _bearaterr_ , Alezwezzer, blinked twice in the direction of their second sun before redirecting his attention to the _kooginn_.

“My chief,” Alezwezzer began in their thick, buzzing native tongue, his small hands clasping together in front of his painted chest. “I foresee a... shadow, over our sun. There is much change coming. I can see it.”

“Are you sure of this news?” the _kooginn_ , Hhersonn, asked sharply. “Others have foretold great change in the past, and yet our people carry on in sameness. I will not uproot our tribe for false information, prophet Alezwezzer. Surely you understand.”

“I do understand,” Alezwezzer assured him, inclining his head slightly. “However, my chief, _you_ must understand that my information is never wrong. I have not been wrong to this day, and I have lived longer than many of our people.”

 _Kooginn_ Hhersonn contemplated this for a moment, his fingers tangling in his hair thoughtfully before he stood tall over bearaterr Alezwezzer. “I will consider this. Bring me several names of our strongest, bravest warriors, and we shall inform them of your prophecy, just in case of the circumstance where your prophecy is correct.”

Alezwezzer bowed low, then climbed back to his feet, his back bent under his hump. “Yes, my chief. I will return shortly.” With that, the _bearaterr_ left the leafy tent, leaving shuffled trails in the sand behind him. Hhersonn stroked his rough fingertips over the sandy darkness of his skin before he turned to the _kooginnia_ , the female tribe leader, who sat silently beside him still.

“I pray that he is wrong,” Hhersonn said to her in a low voice. _Kooginnia_ Sonnecheit inclined her head and clasped her hands together.


	2. Head Injuries and Three Fingers (Maybe?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirk's adventure here begins as most of his adventures begin - with pirates, an injury, and a pissed-off CMO.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let the games begin.
> 
> Also, you must know: the K/S is eventual at this point. This is slow-building, and will involve a lot of plot that is not romantically focused on them, while there will still be a lot of plot that IS romantically focused on them. Just a heads-up.

Dr. Leonard McCoy followed closely behind Commander Spock as the half-Vulcan carried their mostly-unconscious Captain to Sickbay. Thankfully, Mr. Spock’s strength was at least three times that of a human’s - not that McCoy would ever admit to any level of inferiority - and he could carry Captain Kirk when the situation arose. McCoy ran his medical tricorder over Kirk’s head several times, frowned, then let it skim through the air over the rest of his body. The doctor stumbled backwards, trying to keep an eye on Jim and keep up with Spock, whose speed had increased slightly in the long, blank hallways. The path to Medbay from the transport room was not a scenic route.

“Spock, you’ve got to slow up and calm down,” McCoy instructed firmly, meeting Spock’s eyes for a moment before returning his attention to the detailed scan in his hand. “He’s going to be fine, so take a breath, alright?”

Spock seemed to debate what his response ought to be before he simply - _wisely_ , thought McCoy - did not say anything at all. His pace did not slow, however, and it did not take long for the party of three, along with the new Nurse Chapel and the experienced Nurse Edgington, to reach Medbay. Spock set the Captain down in the empty biobed Nurse Chapel directed him to while McCoy grabbed that particular biobedside medical kit. The Vulcan backed up a step, seemingly at a loss. McCoy quickly prepped a hypospray and unceremoniously jabbed Kirk in the neck with it. Kirk flinched, and all motion ceased for a moment at the realization that he was waking up further. McCoy broke the freeze first, pushing forward with another hypo and bending his head down to speak to Kirk.

“Do you remember your name?” McCoy asked, staying still until Kirk’s eyes found him. The Captain blinked once and frowned, his brow furrowing and disturbing the wound that was pulsing blood down his face.

“Jim?” Kirk replied, and McCoy frowned at the phrasing, as though Kirk was asking a question. McCoy raised two fingers.

“How many?” McCoy kept the one hand up while passing the half-prepared hypospray in his other hand off to Nurse Chapel. Kirk’s eyes slipped shut, and a small crease appeared between his eyebrows.

“...Three?” Kirk guessed, eyes still closed. McCoy rolled his eyes and grabbed Kirk’s chin in his hand. The Captain’s eyes flew back open.

“Don’t guess, Jim. Look at me,” McCoy ordered sternly. Kirk obeyed immediately, his eyes focusing on McCoy’s. The doctor nodded once in approval. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Uhm... gonna guess that I pissed off that Nausicaan?” Kirk ventured. McCoy raised an eyebrow at him.

“If by “pissed off” you mean “stupidly challenged”, yes, you pissed him off,” McCoy replied, accepting the hypospray from Nurse Chapel and throwing it into Kirk’s neck. The Captain flinched away and frowned at McCoy.

“Damn, Bones, can you not?” Kirk snapped. Bones tossed the hypospray over his shoulder before snagging a small light from his medical kit and flashing it in Kirk’s bruised eyes. Kirk squinted automatically before he blinked. “Is my head bleeding?”

“Yup,” McCoy answered simply. Nurse Edgington hurried over and began pushing blood away from Kirk’s eyes as gently as she could. “You don’t go halfway on anything, kid. I hate that about you.”

“Don’t need to hide your love from me, Bones. I could see it a mile ‘way,” Kirk slurred slightly. McCoy’s brow furrowed.

“Do you know where you are?” McCoy asked next, trying to keep up the customary stream of questions. Kirk turned his head to the side slightly to observe his surroundings, and, in doing so, spotted Spock, who had not moved from his position against the wall. The Captain grinned.

“Hey, Spock,” Kirk acknowledged. “What brings you here?”

“Where’s _here_ , Jim?” McCoy insisted. Kirk watched Spock for a second longer before his eyes roamed over the rest of the room.

“Medbay,” Kirk answered conclusively, a moment later. “Looks like you stuck me in a biobed. Is it that bad? You gonna have to stitch me up?”

“It’s lookin’ that way,” McCoy responded truthfully. Kirk nodded once, winced, and let his head fall back down onto the pillow. He kept it turned sideways, his smile returning.

“You okay, Spock?” Kirk asked, the slur coming back again at the end of his question. Spock raised an eyebrow.

“I have not sustained an injury, Captain. Perhaps you should concern yourself with your health for the time being,” Spock suggested calmly. McCoy rolled his eyes at the Vulcan as Chapel thrust another medkit into his hands, this one full of anesthizine, dermaline gel, and several other tools for treating Kirk’s specific wound. Kirk eyed Spock for a split second before he frowned. McCoy recognized the expression and just managed to kick the bin out from under the bed before Kirk bent over the side of the biobed and vomited. Spock blinked, his fingers curling slightly. He grasped them together behind his back and let his curious expression play as Nurse Tuck hauled the Captain back up onto the biobed.

“You can knock me out, Bones,” Kirk mumbled. McCoy held out an empty hand expectantly, and he was not disappointed; one of the nurses rushing around dropped another hypospray full of allergen-free anesthizine into his hand. McCoy shot the anesthetic into Kirk’s neck and observed the slackening of the Captain’s face until he was sure that the patient was unconscious.

“I’m going to have to stitch this up real quick, the old-fashioned way,” McCoy grumbled to himself before demanding loudly, “Someone get me a needle, a length of cotton thread, disinfectant, get everything.” A couple of nurses tripped over themselves to obey as Nurse Edgington snapped a neck brace onto the Captain with a _click_ and a humming _whirr_.

“Doctor-”

“Not now, Spock. I’m just going to stitch him up until we can regrow his skin there for him,” McCoy explained hurriedly. Nurse Lincoln shoved his requested equipment into his hands and began the process of hooking Kirk’s arm up to the IV anesthizine drip. McCoy bent his head over Kirk’s head wound to examine it more thoroughly, just for a moment.

Though he was having slight difficulty examining past the blood that Nurse Chapel was steadily clearing out of the way for him, he could tell what he was dealing with. The Nausicaan were particularly fond of darts as their weapons of choice, but, once they had gotten ahold of Ensign Ryder’s phaser, they were beyond eager to test the new technology. Kirk had moved first to take the weapon back, and had gotten a headful of stun. While normally, yes, that would just knock a human out, the close proximity was successful in tearing a hole in the Captain’s head and burning the skin around the wound. McCoy frowned at the wound.

The CMO let the disinfectant absorb into his skin and Kirk’s before he slipped his gloves on and started sewing up the wound as efficiently as he could. The stitches were small and neat, the product of years working with steady hands and open wounds. Once he finished, McCoy crouched slightly to examine his handiwork. He glanced up at Nurse Chapel and nodded; she let out a breath and waved forward Nurse Lincoln and Nurse Edgington with their medical tricorders. McCoy stood and shucked his gloves off into their white receptacle.

“Once that heals a bit, we’ll get to work on his burns and the skin,” McCoy informed his medstaff at large. They all nodded in vague acknowledgement and continued their work. Spock stepped forward then, falling into step beside McCoy easily as the CMO began making his way to Nurse Chapel and her printouts.

“The Captain will recover?” Spock inquired. McCoy nodded, barely paying attention as his eyes roamed over the printout of Kirk’s head. Nothing permanent. _Good._

“He’ll be fine. His head’s gonna be alright.” McCoy paused. “Well, as alright as Jim’s ever could be.”

“He made an illogical decision today,” Spock agreed. McCoy lifted his head, finally giving the Vulcan an actual degree of attention.

“Did you just agree with me?” McCoy asked incredulously. “Well, I’ll be damned. Now I’ve seen everything.”

Spock ignored the comment. “Regardless of the reasons behind his actions today, he will be required back on the Bridge as soon as he is able.”

“Give him a couple minutes, Spock,” McCoy grumbled, his gaze falling back down to the printouts. “He’s gonna need a bit of time. Get up there, you’re Captain for now.”

Spock paused. He looked over his shoulder at the Captain’s biobed, then back to McCoy. “This situation is particularly reminiscent of-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, you don’t need to say it,” McCoy interrupted. The words _died_ or _dead_ were not permitted around McCoy for the time being while he tried to adjust to the fact that Jim had, in fact, _died_. He found himself repeating this rule more often around Spock and Jim himself than around anyone else. Spock did not seem to want to walk about it anymore than McCoy did, but the CMO figured Spock did not have that many who understood completely. McCoy could sympathize. To an extent. “He makes moronic decisions all the time. He’s Jim. You’ll adjust.”

“I have had sufficient time to adjust to the Captain, Doctor. It is just that...” Spock paused once more, the gears in his brain spinning so fast they sparked as he tried to word his thoughts correctly. “I am simply expressing my concern over the Captain’s decision-making skills.”

“You’re a day late and a dollar short, Spock,” McCoy muttered. “You’re his First Officer. It’s your job to keep him in line. Didn’t anyone tell you this?”

“Admiral Pike informed me of this when I came to him with the request to apply for the position of the _Enterprise_ ’s First Officer,” Spock answered easily. McCoy lifted his head again, and he snorted.

“Figures. Guy was more of a dad to Jim than anyone else was,” McCoy grumbled. Nurse Chapel wrapped her fingers tentatively around Spock’s upper arm. Spock stilled and looked down at her.

“He’s gonna be fine,” Christine assured him, her gentle voice soft. Spock nodded curtly to her.

“I can assure you, Nurse Chapel, that I am not overly concerned about the Captain. As previously discussed, he has recovered from worse injuries.” Spock let his dark eyes meet Christine’s. “In any case, I appreciate your extension of comfort.”

“No problem, sweetheart,” Christine replied, squeezing his arm once before releasing it. She dropped her head down over McCoy’s arm to point out a particular piece of Kirk’s readout, and Spock would be lying if he said he had not spaced out a bit. He came back to himself when McCoy turned away, responding to a noise.

“Damn it, Jim. Go back to sleep,” McCoy scolded, shuffling the readouts back into Christine’s arms and storming back over to Kirk’s bedside. Kirk sat up slightly, using his elbows to prop himself up. He smiled.

“Not tired. Am I fit for duty yet? Did you close it up?” Kirk balanced on one elbow and dragged one hand across his brow. He winced, and looked at his fingertips. “No blood. Does that mean I’m good?”

“No, it does not mean that you’re good, Jim. Lay back down, for the love of God,” McCoy ordered. Kirk grinned wider and looked at Spock over McCoy’s shoulder.

“Spock’ll back me up. Won’t you, Mr. Spock?” Kirk urged. Spock hesitated for a moment before stepping up to the foot of Kirk’s bed.

“Your presence, however strong, is not necessary if you are not operating at full capacity, Captain,” Spock answered firmly, clasping his hands against the small of his back. Kirk rolled his eyes, and flinched.

“Have you got a headache?” McCoy asked, turning to look at the screen hung up beside the biobed. “I think I’ve got something you’re not allergic to to help with that. Give me a minute, alright?”

“Alright, Bones,” Kirk allowed, watching McCoy’s back as the CMO left before focusing his attention on Spock once again. “Come on, Spock, work with me here. I don’t need to be in Medbay, I’ve got to be on the Bridge.”

“I will perform adequately as Acting Captain until you are well, I can assure you,” Spock assured him. Kirk sighed.

“You do a fine job, Spock. I just don’t want to be here,” Kirk informed him patiently. “Your opinion actually matters. You wouldn’t have to _lie_ , just... embellish.”

“When it comes to matters concerning you, Captain, I find the two to be synonymous,” Spock informed him. Kirk scoffed, mock-offended.

“Your words wound me, Spock. I don’t lie. I’m like a Vulcan that way,” Kirk teased. Spock raised one eyebrow.

“Captain, I can assure you, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you are unlike a Vulcan in all ways which matter,” Spock replied steadily. Kirk laughed.

“You’re a riot, Spock.” Kirk let himself fall back down against the mattress. He sighed again. “I feel fine. I’ll just stay in my chair, I promise. Tell Bones you’ll keep an eye on me. Please?”

“Captain-”

“C’mon, Spock,” Kirk interrupted. His lips were turned into a slight frown. “I’m useless down here.”

Spock paused for the briefest moment, seemingly thinking. Kirk liked to think he could see the wheels turning in his head as he deliberated. “I will speak with Dr. McCoy, but I will not argue with his decision. He is our Chief Medical Officer for a reason, Captain.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kirk waved him off, as though that reason were irrelevant. Spock inclined his head slightly. “Bones, you can pretend not to be listening anymore.”

“I don’t eavesdrop, Jim, I’m not an old lady,” McCoy grumbled as he reentered the area, though he plainly must have been listening. Spock turned to the CMO.

“I must request that the Captain return to the Bridge so long as he does not leave his chair and allows that I may send him back to you should he display any signs of weakness or pain,” Spock stated. McCoy rolled his eyes, just as Kirk just had, and Spock wondered briefly if it was a common trait or if one of them had learned it from the other.

“I’d rather he didn’t leave,” McCoy began. Kirk sat up slightly, his eyes a bit brighter. “But, if he keeps wrapped up and doesn’t move too much, I probably can’t stop him.”

“I am the Captain,” Kirk added. McCoy scowled at him.

“And I’ll never hear the end of it,” McCoy finished for him. He grabbed one of the medkits stacked up beside the bed and proceeded to wrap bandages around Kirk’s wound. “You can come back down after your shift and we’ll see what I can do about regenerating that skin.”

“Got anything for the headache, or was that just a ruse?” Kirk asked. McCoy produced a hypo, seemingly out of nowhere, and stuck it in Kirk’s neck without further ado. The Captain flinched, and rubbed at his neck, but generally seemed better adjusted after the medicine kicked in. “Thanks, Bones.”

“Don’t mention it,” McCoy replied easily, sticking one more hypo in Kirk’s neck before stepping back. “You’re probably going to want to change.”

Kirk swung his legs over the edge of the bed and glanced down at his clothes. He grimaced, tugging at the gold fabric of his bloodied Captain’s shirt.

“You might also find a sonic shower necessary, Captain,” Spock added helpfully. Kirk nodded in acknowledgement, hopping to his feet. He swayed a bit, and McCoy began rummaging for another hypo. Kirk shook his head, however, and held out his hand, palm out.

“No, I just got up too fast, I’m not disoriented,” Kirk assured him, answering McCoy’s wordless worries. McCoy rolled his eyes and straightened up. Spock watched the scene silently. “Care to accompany me to the Bridge real quick, Spock?”

“Indeed, Captain,” Spock affirmed, waiting for Kirk to say his farewells to Dr. McCoy before leaving with his Captain. The two of them were in the turbolift in no time. Kirk turned to Spock and hit the button to pause the turbolift at the same time.

“Do you know if everyone else got out alright?” Kirk attempted to sound as though he were demanding the information, but his voice was a tad too soft. Spock picked up on it, of course; Spock picked up on _everything_.

“Lieutenant Uhura is unscathed, McCoy as well, I received little injury, and Ensign Ryder assured me he ‘would be totally fine,’” Spock informed him calmly. “However, I regret to inform you that Ensign Pylades was killed.”

Kirk leaned against the wall of the turbolift and shut his eyes. “Damnit.”

“There was nothing-”

“There’s always _something_ I could have done, Spock. I’m the _Captain_. That's kind of my job.” Kirk rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I should have left the ensigns behind, I didn’t know what the situation was going to be like down there.”

“And you had no way of knowing, Captain. The knowledge was beyond all of us, myself and Lieutenant Uhura included.” Spock waited patiently to continue speaking until Kirk opened his eyes again. “You must not blame yourself.”

“That won’t stop me,” Kirk replied easily, pushing back off from the wall. “Are we going to get into any shit over this?”

“We are not directly at fault for any of the events that occurred,” Spock informed him. The piece of information brightened Kirk’s general demeanor a bit, though he was still generally a bit dark after the news that he lost an Ensign.

“Ricky Pylades, you said?” Kirk asked. Spock nodded once. Kirk shut his eyes briefly before rubbing at his jaw and looking up at Spock. “This letter’s gonna be a bitch to write.”

“I will not disagree, Captain.” Spock paused. “He was a good man.”

“He was,” Kirk agreed. “Thanks, Mr. Spock.”

“You are very welcome, Captain, though I can assure you that thanks are not necessary. Ensign Pylades will be missed by us all.” Spock began to reach around Kirk to restart the turbolift, but Kirk stopped him with a hand over Spock’s wrist.

“Just give me a minute, Spock,” Kirk pleaded softly. Spock nodded and let his hand come back to rest with the other behind his back. Kirk leaned against the wall for another moment, taking deep breaths. “I hate to lose someone.”

“I am aware, Captain. Ensign Pylades was a high-performing engineer and a dedicated officer, however. I believe this end is one he would have desired, had he had a choice in the matter,” Spock offered, attempting to comfort Kirk. Kirk smiled at him, but then his expression became curious as he forced himself into a new, external thought process. Spock recognized this familiar coping device and mentally braced himself for whatever the question would be this time.

“So. You and Uhura. Something happen?” Kirk asked. Spock did not allow himself to sigh in exasperation, though it was a near thing.

“If I may ask, what led to this particular line of inquiry?” Spock counter-questioned, and Kirk easily noticed the stalling for what it was. Kirk raised an eyebrow at his First Officer.

“She’s not even talking to you when she doesn’t have to, Spock. I’m blonde, not a moron, c’mon,” Kirk urged. Spock hesitated. Kirk was his closest friend. He supposed he must speak with him in some personal ways more often, offer information to him, as humans need communication in order to maintain interpersonal relationships.

“Lieutenant Uhura and I discussed our relationship at length and mutually decided it would be prudent for us to cease our more personal interactions,” Spock explained to him. Kirk blinked at him, surprised. The Captain then let out a low whistle.

“Ouch. Sorry, man,” Kirk offered. He slapped Spock on the arm and restarted the turbolift. “Feel free to come talk to me whenever. Now that I know you actually _will_ talk to me, you won’t be getting out of it anymore.”

“As you wish, Captain,” Spock replied easily as the turbolift doors threw themselves open, revealing the hectic Bridge to the Captain and First Officer. Chekov lifted his head first.

“Keptin on ze Bridge!” Chekov announced. Nearly every head in the room turned to the turbolift. Kirk scratched absently at the cotton bandages wrapped around his head before he stepped out of the turbolift and fell immediately into the Captain’s chair. Spock strode across the Bridge to his station. The room was silent for a moment before Sulu finally spoke up.

“Lieutenant Uhura said you were going to take a while before coming back?” Sulu’s statement came out as a question. Kirk shrugged.

“I’m a medical marvel,” Kirk joked. He threw a grin at Uhura before returning his attention to Sulu and Chekov. “What’s the news, boys? How’re we going?”

“Well, Captain,” Sulu began, launching right into his news, “you successfully subdued the Nausicaan pirates. We scrambled their signals and sent them on their way. They shouldn’t be a threat to us for some time.”

“Excellent, Lieutenant. Ensign Chekov, are we clear to move on?” Kirk inquired, tapping away at the arm of his chair, bringing up the charts that Chekov had sent over.

“Yes, sir,” Chekov confirmed. Sulu began aligning their ship to take the course he and Chekov had designed in Kirk’s absence.

“Then move on. Take her away, Mr. Sulu,” Kirk instructed.

“Aye, sir,” Sulu replied easily, thrusting up several levers and sending the _Enterprise_ away from the Nausicaans. Kirk visibly relaxed once the ship was moving, the tension leaching out of his shoulders. He slumped slightly in his chair and watched space move past his ship on the viewscreen. He stood a moment later, to change and take a sonic shower so that he looked less like a murder victim. The ensigns were sending him nervous looks. Jim sighed and left Spock the helm as he headed for the turbolift to take to his quarters.

 _The next mission’s probably going to be better,_ he reassured himself. _Probably._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this, I plan for the chapters to be largely from Kirk's POV.


	3. Strawberries and Vulcan Comedians

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The course for the next mission is laid in, Chekov and Sulu have a bet going, and something's eating at Spock (not literally, though, of course).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i might be crazy
> 
> i have writer's block today that makes me feel like my torso is literally a knot

Kirk let the door to his quarters slide shut behind him before he leaned back against it. His head fell back, thumping into the metal of the door with a dull _clang_ , and his eyes slipped shut. He exhaled, then counted his lucky stars that nobody had insisted on accompanying him, especially not Bones. The man was exceptionally perceptive, but probably still swamped after the sudden expansion of male junipers in the botany lab left a whole team of science officers nearly suffocating with asthma-like allergies. Kirk rubbed his hands over his face and pushed away from the door.

He did as Bones had suggested, stripping off his bloody uniform - shirt, undershirt, boots, pants, all of it - and shoving it down the laundry chute. He stretched, cracking his back as he did so, and made his way to his sonic shower, as Spock had suggested. He emerged feeling much cleaner and a bit more refreshed, but he figured _a bit_ was better than _not at all_. Finally fully dressed, he perched on the edge of his bed. A quick glance at the little alarm clock he kept beside his bed informed him that it was 1036 hours, and thusly still Alpha shift, his shift. He scrubbed his hands over his face and promptly made his way to the Bridge.

The walk to the Bridge from his quarters every day was familiar, though the walls were constantly white and the floor patterns never stopped repeating, light and nearly unnoticeable as they were. Ensign Kim stopped him on the way to have him sign the report to Starfleet on the outbreak of male junipers; Ensign Lee passed him by, then jogged back to him to ask where Ensign Pylades had gone. Kirk hesitated, then sat her down against the curved wall in the hallway. He reached the Bridge twenty minutes later than anticipated, his shoulder damp and an ensign in Sickbay until she was calm enough for duty. Spock raised an eyebrow at him, but Kirk waved him off as he took his seat.

“How are we looking, Chekov?” Kirk asked, directing all of his attention to the youngest adult in the room. Chekov’s spine straightened automatically as his fingers zoomed across his screen.

“Right as rain, Keptin,” Chekov replied easily, sending a file zooming to the arm of Kirk’s chair. “Our next destination is the planet Hitzeatur.”

“Oh,” Kirk murmured, skimming the file. “What are we doing there?”

“You forget, Captain, that our mission is no longer strictly orders, but instead a general standing order to explore worlds that may not yet be touched,” Spock offered from the science station. Kirk looked in his direction; Spock gave nothing away in his expression, not this time. Kirk wondered what he was hiding. The Captain nodded to his First Officer.

“So, what do we know about Hitzeatur?” Kirk asked, adjusting so that he sat a bit straighter in his chair. Spock motioned an ensign to his station and came to stand beside the Captain’s chair in the center of the Bridge.

“Captain, if I may,” Spock began. He hesitated; Kirk waved a hand. He was never going to get used to command. “Hitzeatur is... was close to Vulcan,” Spock explained. Kirk pretended not to notice the slip. “Though I did not have cause to visit the planet personally, I have spoken with Vulcans who visited there in the past. They speak of a race that is quite primitive in comparison to Starfleet, sir.”

“Oh, alright.” Kirk brightened a little bit. “Something interesting, that’s good.”

Spock paused for an exceptionally brief moment. “Sir, your words and tone imply that the mission we just completed was uninteresting to you.”

“Don’t read too much into that, Spock,” Kirk offered absently, still reading Chekov’s file. “My words and tone imply a lot of things a lot of the time, but the only one who ever notices is you.”

“It is my duty as First Officer to know you well, Captain,” Spock answered easily. Kirk finally raised his eyes back to look up at the Vulcan.

“What’s my favorite food?” Kirk asked, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. Spock raised an eyebrow at him, seemingly waiting for the punchline. When none came, he simply answered.

“Though you often subconsciously express a preference for lasagna, a preference which, I presume, is leftover from your childhood, you have expressed to me on multiple occasions that your favorite food is apple pie,” Spock replied. Kirk opened his mouth, but it seemed Spock was not quite done. “However, despite what you yourself have told me, my personal observations have led me to believe your favorite food is strawberries.”

Kirk nodded appreciatively. “Well done, Mr. Spock. Spot on. Guess you’re doing your job and I don’t have to write you up.”

“Captain-”

“It was a joke,” Kirk interrupted, already guessing at what Spock was going to say. Spock’s warm eyes turned on him.

“I am aware. I was simply going to say, ‘Captain, if you are to write me up for poor performance, perhaps I must reevaluate you, as well,’” Spock informed his Captain. Kirk laughed and clapped his hands together, turning to the rest of the Bridge crew, who were watching in faint amusement.

“And he jokes!” Kirk exclaimed. He stood and clapped Spock’s shoulder. “Thanks, Mr. Spock. I needed that.”

Spock inclined his head slightly and returned to his station. Kirk thought he caught something in his eyes again - a glimmer of _something_ \- but Spock had been trying so hard lately to cover up anything he felt deeper than surface level. Kirk fought back a sigh and leaned over Chekov’s shoulder.

“What are we looking at here, Mr. Chekov?” Kirk asked. Chekov stiffened again, and Kirk took notice this time. He laid a hand on Chekov’s shoulder. “Relax, Ensign. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I know zis, Keptin,” Chekov replied hesitantly. Kirk bent down a little lower.

“Something bothering you, Pavel?” Kirk asked. Chekov chanced a glance in Sulu’s direction before shaking his head vigorously. “What, Sulu’s giving you trouble?”

Sulu snorted before he could stop himself. When Kirk stood up straight and looked at his helmsman, Sulu seemed unashamed.

“He’s just a little on edge today because we have a new bet going,” Sulu explained helpfully. Kirk nodded in understanding and turned back to Chekov.

“Worried we’re going to lose, Chekov?” Kirk asked. Again, Chekov shook his head.

“Of course not, Keptin,” Chekov answered at once. “I am simply worried for my friend Sulu, of course. Our terms were strict and unyielding. Sir.”

“You’re betting right, then,” Kirk laughed. He resisted the urge to mess up Chekov’s hair. “Enough about that, anyways. We’ll see if we can’t get me in on this bet later. Right now, though, we’ve got to start heading for Hitzeatur.”

“Of course, sir.” Chekov brought up the course he had plotted and laid it in. Sulu raised his head to Kirk, waiting for the order. He did not have to wait very long.

“Warp speed, Mr. Sulu,” Kirk instructed.

“Aye, sir,” Sulu replied absently, throwing the ship into warp. Once he was satisfied with the ship’s direction and speed, he turned in his seat to face the Captain. “I estimate four point six two days before we reach the planet.”

“Excellent. That’ll give us some recuperating time.” Kirk clapped his hands together and turned to face the rest of the Bridge. “How are we looking today, guys?”

“Better than you, Captain,” Uhura half-teased from her communications station. Spock raised his head to watch them for a moment before his attention refocused on his station with double the intensity. Kirk shook his head and turned back to his communications officer.

“Oh, is that so, Lieutenant? And why is that?” Kirk questioned, playing along as he strode to her station. He leaned against the wall beside her, crossing his arms. Uhura reached up and tapped his the bandages over his temple.

“That would be why,” Uhura answered before pausing. “Sir,” she tacked on as an afterthought. Kirk grinned.

“You know me. Can’t keep a Kirk down,” the Captain exclaimed. He ran his hand over the bandages covering his head. “I think it makes me look heroically dashing. Don’t you think?”

“Captain,” Uhura laughed. She calmed down to a smile as she touched his wrist. “I’m glad you’re alright, Kirk.”

“Me, too,” Kirk answered honestly, his voice low. He grasped Uhura’s shoulder for a brief moment before returning to his chair. He turned to Spock, who had again been watching Kirk and Uhura’s interactions. When Kirk raised an eyebrow at him, Spock seemed to give a minute shake of his head and return to his work. _Hmm._

The rest of Alpha shift passed with little to no interesting activity. Despite numerous attempts at goading Chekov, he would not explain the circumstances of his bet. When Sulu was questioned, he just grinned and kept his mouth shut. A couple of ensigns kept him entertained for an easy hour with a game of iSpy - which thoroughly amused Kirk, since there was not a hell of a lot to spy on a Bridge for an hour. Kirk practiced his Klingon with Uhura for a short while before working on Vulcan with Spock. Under the assurance that both tongues were coming along, he had Spock show him through the formal greeting on Hitzeatur.

“They are a very tactile people, Captain,” Spock explained. He motioned over his relief, who had arrived for Beta shift several minutes early. Kirk stared hard at her for a moment until he remembered who she was from the two days he spent memorizing his ship’s roster: _Ensign Kelly O’Donal, native of Ireland, has two mothers and three brothers_. Kirk smiled somewhat smugly at the memory. Kelly smiled a bit in nervous response.

“Ensign O’Donal, please extend your arms in front of you. Keep them straight - yes, like that - and your palms facing inwards, towards each other. Exactly. Now, Captain,” Spock turned to Kirk, who just grinned at his First Officer. “You are going to pull her hands together in one of yours, place your other hand around her back, and kiss her forehead.”

“...I’m going to what?” Kirk asked incredulously. Sulu snickered; Kelly blushed.

“You are going to pull her hands-”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard you, Spock,” Kirk cut him off, waving a hand. He focused his most reassuring grin on Kelly. “Sorry about this, Kel.”

“It’s not a problem, sir,” Kelly assured him, her arms still outstretched. Kirk did as Spock instructed, adjusting his position or his grip as instructed by his First Officer. Once the greeting was deemed sufficient, Kirk thanked Kelly and Spock dismissed her until her shift began. Kelly nodded to them both and hung back a bit.

“See, that would’ve been much easier if you’d done it, Mr. Spock,” Kirk commented as he gathered himself. Spock paused.

“You’ll recall that Vulcans are touch telepaths, Captain,” Spock reminded Kirk. Kirk suddenly felt like a moron. “It would be inadvisable for me to extend continued contact with a crewmember at this time.”

“Why at this time?” Kirk asked. Uhura’s eyes raised to the two of them, Kirk noticed; it seemed Spock noticed, as well, as his dark eyes drifted to the communications officer before snapping back to his Captain.

“Perhaps we ought not discuss this presently, Captain,” Spock replied stiffly. Kirk frowned.

“Yeah, sure,” Kirk allowed before he yawned. “Damn, I’m beat. I think it’s time for some sleep. Care to accompany me to the quarters, Mr. Spock? Since you’re my Bones-appointed babysitter for the day?”

“Of course, Captain,” Spock agreed, making no comment on the babysitter remark. Kirk frowned slightly again. _What the hell?_

Kirk decided to let it drop while they were in the company of others. However, once they were out of the lift - and therefore free of Ensign Rj’tal, Sulu, and Chekov - and headed down to the hallway to their quarters, Kirk brought the topic up again like it had never been dropped.

“What’s eating you, Spock?” Kirk inquired innocently. Spock’s pace did not falter.

“Nothing is eating me, Captain. I am currently up to date on my inoculations and carry no para-”

“Don’t be a smartass with me, Spock,” Kirk sighed. Spock stopped speaking at once. “And we’re off-duty now, technically, so I’m Jim again.”

“Jim,” Spock began once more. “You have no reason for concern.”

Kirk raised an eyebrow in disbelief, stopping in the middle of the hallway. Spock continued for a couple of steps before he noticed and retraced back to where his Captain stood.

“Bullshit,” Kirk blurted out. Spock hardly blinked. “Something’s bugging you, I know it is.”

“You have no way of knowing this, Ca- Jim,” Spock answered, his head tilted down slightly in order to maintain eye contact despite their slight height difference. “I am well and have exhibited no symptoms that merit your concern.”

“You’re acting all stiff again,” Kirk pointed out. He got the feeling that, if Spock was one for exasperated sighs, there would have been one right there, courtesy of a remarkably stoic half-Vulcan. “I thought we were past all this shit.”

“To what are you ref-”

“Cut the crap, Spock,” Kirk interrupted. Spock’s jaw snapped shut. “Just talk to me.”

“I would prefer not to, Jim, and I would also prefer it if you respect my wishes.” Spock turned on his heel and continued down the hallway, not so much as looking back to assure that Kirk was still there. _Oh, great,_ Jim grumbled to himself. _You pissed him off._

Once the two of them reached the door to Kirk’s quarters, Spock zipped in Kirk’s passcode - which took Kirk a moment to realize, _hey, wait a minute, how did he-_ \- and motioned for Kirk to enter. Once the Captain did, he turned back to Spock, as though expecting his First Officer to enter. It was not surprising that he did not.

“Rest well, Captain. There are several projects which Lieutenant Sulu and I intend to oversee during Beta shift,” Spock informed him, answering Kirk’s unspoken question of _And just where do you think you’re going?_

Kirk nodded, mostly to himself, but then frowned when he noticed the slight discoloration on Spock’s neck. He moved a bit closer, ignoring how Spock’s posture stiffened ever so slightly, and examined it.

“Green,” Kirk grumbled to himself - ignoring how he sounded like Bones when he did it - before he leveled a glare heavy with accusation at his First Officer. “I thought you said you didn’t get hurt.”

“That is not entirely correct, Jim,” Spock corrected. “When asked, I informed you that I received little injury. In the wake of your injury and Ensign Pylades’ passing, such superficial wounds as this were wholly unimportant.”

“Bullshit,” Kirk stated for the second time in about seven minutes. “Go check with Bones, don’t let that get infected. That’s an order,” Kirk tacked on, anticipating the argument Spock would easily present. His First Officer paused, then inclined his head. His posture was still stiff and straight; his hands were clasped behind his back. The picture of a perfect Vulcan. Kirk narrowed his eyes slightly.

“As you wish, Jim,” Spock agreed. “I will see you soon. I anticipate that our chess game tonight will be postponed, pending your recovery.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easy,” Jim laughed. He clapped Spock on the arm. “I’ll see you at 2200 hours in my quarters, then, Mr. Spock.”

“Of course, Captain,” Spock answered automatically. Jim pointed at him, as though he had caught his First Officer juggling flamethrowers or something equally ridiculous.

“Caught you. Jim,” Kirk reminded the Vulcan. Spock nodded once.

“I will return at 2200 hours,” Spock offered as a goodbye. Kirk gave a mock salute.

“‘’Til then, Spock, think of the world.’” Kirk waved. Spock raised an eyebrow.

“Captain?”

“Just a quote, Mr. Spock. Try not to get eaten by a Venus fly trap.” Kirk let the door shut after the last remark, likely leaving Spock in more than a little confusion and a general air of what Kirk usually called _friggin’ illogical Humans_. Kirk pushed Spock’s discomfort and distance out of his mind as he stripped off his clothes and set his small alarm, and he found sleep easily. He thanked whatever deities existed on whatever planet that Bones had thought to fix his concussion before his burnt skin as he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no beta, so all mistakes are 100% me, baby


	4. Mental Connections and Old Spock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even Starfleet officers have to talk about their feelings sometimes.

Kirk’s dreams were odds and ends, bits and pieces. There was a flash of his childhood bedroom, his uncle Frank yelling up the stairs at him, then a flash of Medbay, Bones shining a flashlight in his eyes. He felt the same in each scene, as though he did not change, did not age. He simply blinked and shifted scenes. He felt nearly on the surface, about to break through into wakefulness, when Spock’s face swam into view, and he felt immediately distressed. He could not pinpoint the emotion or its source; he frowned and burst into consciousness, breathing heavily.

“Spock,” Kirk huffed, the back of his neck sticky with sweat. He ripped his sheets off, tugged on a pair of pants and an undershirt, and tore out of his quarters, barefoot and red-faced. He stopped at the first terminal he found and screeched to a halt. His hands were flying around the screen in mere seconds.

“Locate crewmember Spock,” Kirk demanded. The screen blipped and showed a small red circle located in Spock’s quarters. Kirk turned around immediately and launched himself at Spock’s door, banging on it until it opened to Spock’s concerned face.

“Captain-”

“Are you alright?” Kirk asked, his breathing still heavy and uneven. Spock grabbed him by the shoulder and heaved him bodily into the room.  The door slid shut behind them both as Spock deposited Kirk onto his bed.

“I am well, Captain. What has happened?” Spock inquired, his usually-level tone somewhat marred by the sharp undertone of panic in his voice. Kirk paused to regulate his breathing, for both their sakes.

“I had this... dream, I don’t know.” Kirk rubbed at the back of his neck somewhat sheepishly. “It seems stupid now, but I was _so sure_ that something was wrong with you.”

“I can assure you that I am perfectly well, Captain,” Spock promised. He bent slightly to look into Kirk’s eyes. “I shall comm Dr. McCoy-”

“No!” Kirk exclaimed sharply. Spock, still half-crouched, raised an eyebrow at him ever so slightly. Kirk rushed to explain. “It’s... ridiculous, really, it was just a dream.”

“It may be a residual symptom of your head injury,” Spock pointed out. Kirk shook his head.

“I know what that feels like, and, Spock, this wasn’t it.” Kirk let his bandaged head fall into his hands. “Damnit. Now I feel stupid.”

“Do not feel stupid, Jim,” an old, familiar voice said gently to him. Kirk nearly got whiplash from how fast his head snapped up.

“Spock?” Kirk ventured before he located the computer terminal where the other Spock’s image was watching him. Kirk grinned. “Hey, Spock! Sorry about that.”

“Do not feel sorry. I am afraid I may be responsible for my young counterpart’s distress,” older Spock informed him, his tone tinged a bit with guilt. Kirk’s Spock - _wait,_ my _Spock?_ \- straightened to his full height and threw what Kirk (having been on the receiving end of it more times than he would care to mention) lovingly named the Vulcan Death Glare at the computer screen.

“Oh, yeah? What were you saying?” Kirk asked, moving from the bed to the chair in front of the computer terminal. Spock moved with him like a satellite and positioned himself behind Kirk’s seat, just as he often did on the Bridge.

“I was sharing with him stories of my life, and we ventured onto the topic of Jim. My Jim,” old Spock clarified. Kirk nodded and relaxed in the chair, crossing one leg over the other easily. He felt tremendously better now that he was in the same room as Spock.

“I’ve always wanted to ask about him, besides the basics, you know,” Kirk offered. Spock stiffened minutely. Kirk glanced up at him, a frown turning the corners of his mouth down. “You alright?”

“Yes, Jim,” Spock replied shortly. Kirk’s gaze lingered for a moment before he returned his attention to the screen, where the older Spock was watching them with lingering traces of sadness and longing in the creases of his face.

“The next time you call, Jim, I will tell you anything you wish to know,” the older Spock promised. Kirk grinned at him.

“Sounds like a plan,” Kirk agreed. The older Spock graced him with a slight smile - that nearly shook Kirk with shock, _Spock smiling? Holy shit_ \- before directing his next words to Kirk’s Spock, and, _damnit, I’ve got to stop doing that._

“You will think on what I have told you?” the older Spock phrased it like a question, but Kirk heard it as more of an order. Spock evidently heard it the same way, if his curt nod was anything to go by. “Good. I expect you will not wait until the last minute.”

“I will not,” Spock assured him stiffly. The older Spock - _seriously, he needs a special name_ \- inclined his head and turned back to Jim.

“We will speak again soon, my friend,” older Spock promised. Kirk nodded and returned the ta’al when it was offered to him by the older Spock. “Live long and prosper, Jim.”

“Peace and long life, Spock,” Kirk replied easily. The older Spock did the little smile expression again, and the transmission ended. Kirk swiveled in the chair to look up at his Spock, who was standing stiffly, one hand still half-raised from the farewell, the other clenched behind his back. “What’s eating at you, Spock? You’ve got to tell me, because if you’re-”

“It is nothing, Captain,” Spock interrupted, his voice sounding nearly as though Spock’s jaw was clenched shut. “A private matter between myself and the Ambassador.”

 _Ambassador.That’s a good way to differentiate._ Kirk sighed and stood.

“You don’t have to tell me, I guess,” Kirk allowed before frowning. “Wait, how did I feel that you were upset? Is that a Vulcan thing?”

“Indeed, Captain,” Spock informed him. “I form bonds with those I am close with - such as yourself, my father, or Lieutenant Uhura - and, through said bonds, we share a piece of our mind.”

“Why isn’t she down here?” Kirk asked, turning to look at the door as though he may have missed something. “Because if it scared the shit out of _me_ , she probably wasn’t too great off, either.”

“The bond between myself and you is stronger than between myself and her, Captain,” Spock answered. Kirk could almost see the wall come down across Spock’s expression. “She likely would not have felt it as you did. I apologize that you felt the emotions so severely. I will endeavor to harness my emotions in the future and keep them out of your path.”

“Don’t worry about it, Spock.” Kirk waved him off and cracked his back. “And if I have to tell you one more time to call me Jim when we’re off duty, Spock, I swear.”

“You swear what, Jim?”

“Figure of speech, Spock,” Kirk reminded him. Spock inclined his head slightly. “Seriously, though. Just because you can’t control your Vulcan brain hoodoo doesn’t mean you need to be ashamed of it. No big deal. We’re friends.”

“Indeed, sir,” Spock agreed. Kirk smiled and clapped him on the shoulder before motioning to the door.

“I have no idea what time it is, but are you ready for chess?” Kirk asked. Spock seemed quite torn for the briefest of moments as his eyes sought out the clock.

“It is presently 2032 hours, Jim,” Spock stated. Kirk got the feeling Spock was stalling. “A brief period of meditation is required so that I may gather myself. I will meet you in your quarters at 2200 hours as planned.” Spock paused for the briefest of moments. “I suggest you rest. I will keep my mind clear of yours.”

Kirk shook his head before Spock was even done talking. “Don’t worry about it.” Kirk paused to point at Spock’s neck again. “I’m telling you, get Bones to heal that. Anyways, meditate all you need and I’ll see you in time to get your ass whupped at chess tonight.”

“Of course, Jim.” Spock sounded as he always did, as though he were simply agreeing with Kirk, but Kirk saw the struggle for lightness under the words and gave Spock a smile for his efforts.

“Catch you later,” Kirk gave as a goodbye, clapping Spock on the arm and leaving his First Officer’s quarters. He frowned slightly at the chill that ran across his skin in the hall. The rest of the ship was significantly cooler than Spock’s quarters; the Vulcan kept his quarters warmer than anyone else, as was comfortable for a Vulcan. Instead of heading to his quarters, Kirk decided to head to Medbay so that he could get his skin repaired and maybe get the damn bandages off.

Upon arriving in his best friend’s domain, however, Kirk found himself nearly tackled sideways when McCoy grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him to the biobed he had occupied not too long ago.

“I was expecting you at the end of Alpha shift, not at the end of Beta shift,” McCoy grumbled, sitting Kirk down on the edge of the bed and beginning to unwind his head bandages. “Damn hobgoblin sent me a comm saying he _thought it best_ if you took a damn _nap._ I’m the CMO, thanks, _not_ him.”

“The best in Starfleet,” Jim added. McCoy rolled his eyes at him.

“Sucking up won’t save you now,” McCoy informed him as he jabbed a light anesthetic into Kirk’s neck. “I’m going to regrow your skin for you, alright?”

“Alright, Bones,” Kirk agreed. He allowed McCoy to force him into a vertical position. He then shut his eyes and pretended not to feel his skin regrowing by the second. He only startled back out of the semi-asleep state he had entered when McCoy jostled his shoulder.

“You don’t look like a towering inferno victim anymore, so that’s a plus,” McCoy informed him, wrapping one thin bandage around his head. Kirk pulled his hair down slightly to cover it. McCoy scowled at him. “Try to get some more rest or I’m taking you off your next three shift rotations, you understand?”

“Perfectly, Bones,” Kirk promised. He hopped out of bed and shook McCoy’s hand. “A pleasure, as always.”

“You’re hilarious,” McCoy deadpanned, though he shook Kirk’s hand in return. “Go get some rest. Doctor’s orders.”

“You got it,” Kirk assured him, squeezing McCoy’s hand before escaping from Sickbay, despite Nurse Chapel’s sharp eye trained on him the entire time. Kirk had to refrain from jogging back to his quarters with the sudden energy that was an aftereffect of the new drugs in his systems. He realized belatedly that he still had no shoes on, nor was he wearing a full uniform. He half-shrugged to himself and returned to his quarters. He slowed at the sight of Spock standing patiently beside his door. He frowned.

“Has it been that long?” Kirk asked. Though the question was directed to himself and was mostly rhetorical, Spock, as per usual, took it upon himself to answer.

“You are only four minutes late, Jim,” Spock informed him, stepping back slightly for Kirk to open the door and let them both inside. “I am glad to see that you have taken steps to further heal your head. I must send my regards to Dr. McCoy.”

“Glad, Spock?” Kirk laughed. Spock let the door slide shut behind him.

“As usual, Jim, I am simply trying to help you to better understand,” Spock reminded his Captain. Jim laughed again as he pulled their chess set down and began setting it up at his table.

“Are you prepared to get your ass beat into the ground, Mr. Spock?” Kirk set the black pieces up on Spock’s side as his First Officer took his seat.

“I am prepared to see why you are particularly confident about tonight’s match,” Spock allowed. Kirk grinned like a shark and took his own seat as he placed the last piece down.

“Because I have leftover adrenaline,” Kirk answered, moving his first piece. Spock kept his eyes down on the board as he replied.

“As do I,” Spock assured him, moving his own piece. Kirk half-smiled and took his pre-anticipated next move. The game continued in much the same way for the better part of an hour, though they played in relative silence, the both of them unwinding and relaxing a bit after the events of the past two days. In the end, the game - unsurprisingly - went to Spock. Kirk had won in the past, but even he would admit to not being on the top of his game today.

“I’ll concede the battle, Spock, but not the war,” Kirk threatened as Spock claimed the white king. The Vulcan raised one eyebrow.

“I look forward to seeing your future battle strategies, Jim, as your current strategy resembles chaos,” Spock replied. Jim laughed, leaned back in his chair, and pointed a finger at his First Officer.

“That’s what keeps you on your toes. Can’t apply logic when I’m not using any,” Kirk explained. Spock paused, seemingly thinking this over. He inclined his head.

“A clever strategy, Jim. However, now that I know of it, am I not better prepared to battle you?” Spock inquired. Jim folded his hands behind his head and kicked his feet up on the table beside the three-tiered chess board.

“Because it still won’t make any sense,” Kirk responded, full of confidence. Spock hesitated to think for another long moment.

“I’m afraid that makes a great deal of sense, Jim,” Spock acknowledged, managing to sound both amused and resigned at the same time. Kirk yawned and leaned back a bit further; Spock stood. “If you are tired, then I will-”

“Sit down, Spock. If I go to sleep now, I’ll be up way too early,” Kirk informed him. Spock took his seat once more and remained there in total silence. Kirk bit back a sigh. “We can still talk outside of chess, Spock. You alright? I mean, you’ve been a little off since the whole Khan thing, but you seem a little... testier than usual as of late. What gives?”

“My apologies-”

“Spock,” Kirk cut him off, his tone on the edge of warning. Spock’s head dropped ever so slightly.

“Jim. Please accept my apologies. My emotions have not been under my full control since I lost them so... intensely,” Spock explained. Kirk placed his feet flat on the floor and leaned forward, his forearms resting on his thighs as he did so. Spock’s posture remained perfect, as always.

“There’s nothing to apologize _for_ , Spock. I’ve just been worried that I pissed you off or something,” Kirk answered honestly. Spock nodded once, and Kirk watched as the smallest, most minute changes in his expression shifted. His eyes opened a bit wider, his mouth relaxed just so, his shoulders fell the smallest bit. The overall effect was a softening and an easiness that made Kirk feel much better about the whole situation than anything Spock had said could have. “You know you can talk to me about... stuff, right? Or, I mean, you could talk to Bones, too, or Scotty, or Uhur- well, probably not Uhura.” Kirk winced. “Sorry about that, I forgot.”

“Do not apologize,” Spock instructed. Kirk nodded absently a couple of times before looking down at his hands, clasped together in between his knees.

“I forget how hard shit like this must be for you,” Kirk murmured. Spock’s head tilted the smallest of a degree to the left.

“To what ‘shit’ are you referring, Captain?” Spock inquired innocently. Kirk choked on the air he had been inhaling.

“Damnit, Spock, warn me before you pull something like that,” Kirk sputtered around his coughs and laughs. Spock raised an eyebrow at him, but otherwise remained silent as he waited for a response. Once Kirk gathered himself again, he gave the answer. “The _shit_ I’m referring to, Spock, is all this emotional mumbo-jumbo that Bones keeps grumbling at me about. I know it was kind of a shit stunt to pull, but I thought it was the best thing to do. I get it if you’re pissed about it, really.”

“Jim,” Spock began, his eyebrows lifting the smallest bit in what Kirk guessed was incredulity, though he had no idea why it was there. “I am not angry about your decision. I am confused as to my reaction about your decision, because, while I had been saddened and enraged, I had also been... proud, I suppose, is the correct word. I felt many conflicting emotions as I have only felt once or twice before in my lifetime.” Spock paused and waited until Kirk met his eyes again. “Jim, I am not angry with you. I am angry with myself.”

“You’ve got no reason to be,” Kirk rushed to assure. Spock shook his head once.

“You are wrong, Jim. You do not understand,” Spock said softly. Kirk sat up a bit straighter.

“I might not understand Vulcans as well as you do, but I definitely understand Humans way better than you do. You’re half-Human, Spock. There’s some stuff that just isn’t going to feel right to your Vulcan side, but that’s alright. Really. Don’t make yourself something you’re not.” Kirk nearly winced at how much he sounded like a guidance counselor. Spock seemed to be contemplating what he had said, though, so Kirk let the words hang there and be processed by the Vulcan. Finally, Spock seemed to come to some sort of conclusion; his features shifted into an expression of set determination.

“I will endeavor to secure both sides of myself, Jim. Your argument has merit.” Spock paused and seemed to be looking Kirk over for a moment. “If you will agree to such an arrangement, I suggest that, as I teach you about the Vulcan culture, you will teach me about the Human culture.”

“Sure thing, Spock,” Kirk agreed easily, nearly deflating with relief that Spock was actually going to be okay. The Vulcan inclined his head slightly and stood once more.

“I will meet you for breakfast at 0700 as per usual, Jim,” Spock offered as a farewell. Kirk waved once and stood.

“See you in the morning,” Kirk replied as he began to pack away the chess set. Spock made his way to the door, then paused, half-turning back to Kirk. The Captain looked up at him, a black rook in each hand. “Something wrong, Spock?”

“No, Jim. Just... Thank you,” Spock added the moment before the door flew open with a whoosh and the Vulcan disappeared. Kirk waved with one rook-filled hand.

“Anytime, Spock,” Kirk responded to the empty room at large. He set the two black rooks back in the box.


	5. Brain Buddies and Possible Wormholes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Space is chaos and oddities wrapped in red brightness and hysterics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so stuck lately. This chapter is the worst, to me, right now.

Kirk had never been a morning person, and he would be the first one to admit to it. He hated mornings. They were the worst.

Of course, they were even _worse_ when he was barely recovered from a substantial blow to the head.

Kirk dragged himself across the room, his headache still more present than he would have liked. It had diminished enough that he had no excuse to miss his shift, however, and it was with that knowledge in mind that he showered, dressed, and dragged himself to the mess for breakfast. He would have been surprised to see Spock already sitting at their usual table, but Spock normally slept so little that it held no shock for Kirk anymore. What did surprise him was the fact that Spock had chosen not to get breakfast yet, and that none of the rest of his crew was sitting around him, as they normally were. Instead, it was just Spock, staring down at the tabletop as though it had wronged him in some way. Kirk slid into the seat across from him.

“Hey,” Kirk greeted when Spock did not look up. His First Officer’s head snapped up, as though he had not even known that Kirk was there. Kirk figured he was misreading him; there was no way a Vulcan could have missed him coming from a mile away. “You alright?”

“Good morning,” Spock replied. He did not seem as though he wanted to speak beyond that; Kirk was about to repeat his question when Spock’s head tilted to the side ever so slightly. “I am... fine.”

“Thought you didn’t like that word,” Kirk pointed out. Spock’s eyes searched Kirk’s face for a moment before they fell back down to the tabletop. “You can tell me what’s up, you know. I’m really the last person who’d judge you for it. What did Uhura call me the other day? ‘The closest thing you have to a friend,’ right?”

“That is correct,” Spock confirmed. He placed his hands on the table, his eyes still focused downwards. “When Vulcans are seven years of age, they must partake in a ceremony arranged by their parents in which they are bonded to another young Vulcan.”

“Alright,” Kirk prompted when Spock abruptly stopped. He would be lying if he said he knew where this was going. He waited for Spock to continue; after a moment, continue he did.

“I was bonded to T’Pring,” Spock informed him. Their table was silent for a moment before the words sank in.”

“‘Was’?” Kirk repeated. Spock nodded once, sharply. “Oh. I’m sorry, Spock.”

“Do not apologize. She likely felt no pain. It is simply that... I am feeling her absence more astutely as of late,” Spock offered. Kirk leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest.

“Oh, yeah?” Kirk blew out a breath. “Okay. I can understand that, you miss her. You two were... what’s the human word here, engaged? Betrothed?”

“It’s more than a betrothal,” Spock explained, “but... less than a marriage. We locked our minds together.”

“So she wasn’t your wife, she was a... brain buddy?” Kirk almost winced at his own words. Spock did not react outwardly, though his expression shifted minutely. Kirk craned his neck to look into the face of his First Officer. “Hey, it’s gonna be alright. Really.”

Spock finally raised his head again to look Kirk in the face. The Captain smiled as reassuringly as he could at him; Spock’s face shifted again, though it was more towards a smile this time. Kirk counted that as a victory, and he pushed his chair back from the table.

“I’m going to grab something to eat. You want anything?” Kirk asked, pointing at Spock. The Vulcan shook his head.

“I am not hungry this morning,” Spock informed him, nothing in his tone indicating that anything else was wrong. With an internal shrug, Kirk left him to his own devices for the three minutes it took him to shove a couple plates of food onto his tray and procure two mugs of coffee, one of which he filled with sugar. The other he shoved towards Spock when he took his seat again. He said nothing, but Spock took it without argument.

“Where is everyone else?” Kirk asked, already tearing his replicated pancakes into pieces with his knife and spork. Spock looked around him, as though the crew would manifest simply because he realized they were absent.

“I do not know,” Spock answered honestly. He gripped the mug Kirk had passed him tightly in both of his hands. He turned his attention to the bitter coffee.

“Sorry, sorry!” Chekov’s voice rang clear over the din of the mess. Kirk raised his head and turned in the direction, and was greeted by a frenzied Chekov, who was dragging a tired-looking Sulu behind him. “This _spyashchaya krasavitsa_ was still asleep when I went for him.”

“Speak of the Devil, Mr. Chekov,” Kirk greeted, motioning to the seat beside him. Chekov forced Sulu into it with two strong hands on his shoulders before the young Russian took the seat next to Spock, who stiffened slightly. Chekov took no notice, though Kirk did and raised an eyebrow at his First Officer. Spock shook his head minutely, as if to tell him _Say nothing_ , and Kirk was more than happy to comply for the time being. “We were just wondering where you all were.”

“Dr. Leonard still had a couple forms to finish,” Chekov informed Kirk eagerly, stealing one of his sausages. Kirk laughed. “He told me you would laugh. He also told me that you must go see him before your shift today.”

“Lovely,” Kirk sighed. He passed Sulu two of his pancakes on a plate and laughed at the grateful expression that immediately came onto his helmsman’s face. “I guess I’d better get down there, if I’m going to make it in time. I’ll see you all at 0800.”

“Yes, sir!” Chekov replied enthusiastically. Spock inclined his head slightly; Sulu seemed not to hear him, focused on inhaling the pancakes as he was. Kirk made to lift up his tray, but a hand on his forearm stopped him. He looked up into Uhura’s bored face.

“Leave the food,” Uhura instructed calmly. Kirk raised his hands in surrender.

“Gotcha,” Kirk laughed, abandoning his food tray and crew to make his way to Sickbay. The same thing happened every morning; Kirk grabbed all the replicated food he could fit on one tray, and the group of them shared it. It was an odd ritual that Kirk honestly could not see ending anytime soon, especially since he and Chekov were really the only ones awake and willing enough to get any of them any food.

Kirk strolled into Sickbay like he owned the place - which, with how he frequented the place, he may as well - and was accosted by McCoy nearly immediately.

“Sit down, Jim,” McCoy demanded, pushing Kirk down onto one of the free biobeds by the door. Kirk obliged if only to get out of there more quickly. “How’re you feeling? And be honest, because I’ll figure it out anyways.”

“Kinda got a headache,” Kirk told him honestly, eyeing one of the nurses that smiled at him. He smiled back. “I’m a little... warm, I guess.”

McCoy frowned and pressed his hands to Kirk’s face, then to his neck. “You don’t feel warm.”

“I don’t know, it doesn’t feel like a fever.” Kirk rubbed at the back of his neck. “In any case, it’s nothing I can’t handle. I’ve got my shift.”

“You’ve got your shift when I clear you for your shift,” McCoy stated firmly. Kirk sighed and relaxed in the biobed. McCoy ran his tricorder over Kirk before frowning and waving Nurse Chapel over. She did the same thing and passed her tricorder over to McCoy, who sighed heavily.

“Nothing’s wrong with you, kid,” McCoy informed him, his tone somehow seeming to insinuate that this, too, was entirely Kirk’s doing. Kirk rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t mess with your equipment or anything,” Kirk assured him before grinning widely. “I haven’t had the time.”

“Alright, smartass,” McCoy growled, heaving Kirk up off of the biobed. “Just go to your shift, I’ll work on this. Come find me if you feel any worse, and come see me at the end of Alpha anyways, just so I can change your dressings.”

“Okay, okay,” Kirk agreed, waving him off. He smiled again at the nurse that had smiled at him, smacked McCoy on the ass, and left Medbay in a slightly dizzier state than when he had entered it. He jogged to the turbolift and found himself on the Bridge, surrounded by his crew, in almost no time. Unfortunately, nobody seemed to notice his arrival, save for Chekov, who shouted his usual, “Keptin on ze Bridge!”

Kirk surveyed the scene, which was oddly quiet. Everyone ignored Chekov’s words and focused on their stations. Kirk raised an eyebrow at the lot of them.

“What’s wrong?” Kirk asked, looking them over. Sulu was the only one who raised his head, and he beckoned Kirk over. The Captain moved to listen.

“Mr. Spock went... well, pardon my language, sir, but he went batshit this morning after you left,” Sulu murmured. “Said something about his skin being on fire, then he just left. It was very...”

“Understood,” Kirk interrupted before he frowned, his brow furrowing. He glanced over at the science station to find his First Officer bent over the controls, his attention insanely focused. He then turned to Uhura, who was watching Spock worriedly; she must have felt Kirk’s eyes on her, however, for she turned to him almost immediately, her bottom lip between her teeth. Kirk jerked his head towards the turbolift, and Uhura nodded, motioning for an ensign to take her seat. Kirk clapped Sulu’s shoulder.

“Sulu, you’ve got the conn,” Kirk announced. A couple ensigns looked at him; Chekov looked terrified. “I’ll be right back.”

“Aye, sir,” Sulu answered easily, moving to the Captain’s chair. An ensign slid into the helmsman’s chair. Kirk followed Uhura to the turbolift and allowed her to press the stop command once the door slid shut.

“He won’t tell anybody what’s going on,” Uhura informed the Captain immediately. Kirk leaned back against the wall of the turbolift and scrubbed the heels of his hands over his face. “Not me, not Leonard. Has he said _anything_ to you? At all?”

“No, he hasn’t,” Kirk answered before pausing. His hands fell to his sides. “Actually, no, he told me about some girl he was bonded with back on Vulcan when I asked what was wrong with him this morning.”

“Vulcans are so tight-lipped about their physiology, their bonding...” Uhura trailed off. She folded her arms across her chest. “Well, everything, really. They don’t share. How are we supposed to help?”

“I don’t think we are, Lieutenant,” Kirk admitted. An expression like a storm briefly flickered onto her face before vanishing.

“As you wish, Captain,” Uhura replied, slamming her hand against the start command. Kirk scrambled for the right words, but the door beat him to it. Uhura strode to her station, dismissing the ensign with one hand and leaving Kirk to drag himself to the Captain’s chair and send Sulu back to his station. Kirk was in his seat when the ship rocked to the side, and the display of the space before them on the viewscreen shifted slightly, then sped up. Sulu’s and Chekov’s hands began flying across their conjoined station.

“What the hell is going on, Mr. Sulu?” Kirk demanded as the rest of the Bridge crew secured themselves in their seats. Sulu shook his head.

“I don’t know, Captain. There’s nothing in this area of sp-” Sulu’s information cut off abruptly as he stared at his screen. He grabbed Chekov’s sleeve and shoved the Russian in the direction of his console, and Chekov made a startled noise before he began plotting a new course. Sulu quickly began trying to turn them around. “Captain, I’m not sure what this is. It’s something I’ve never seen- It’s pulling us in, Captain!”

“Well, get us out, then!” Kirk shouted, standing and crossing over to the frantic beeping of the communication station. Sulu just barely refrained from throwing a glare at his Captain as he threw one of his handles up and began madly throwing the ship into reverse. Chekov grabbed his wrist, halting him.

“Stop, stop, Mr. Sulu,” Chekov instructed frantically. “You will waste our power, we must-”

“Do whatever you have to to save the ship.” Kirk allowed Uhura to press her spare earpiece into his ear. He frowned at the voices coming through to him; none of them were making sense, and the Universal Translator was failing at recognizing the language. Kirk grasped Uhura’s shoulder and leaned in, and that was when the entire Bridge flashed white. Kirk tugged Uhura down, pushing her under him and shielding her with his body. He buried his face in her hair and waited for the shaking to disappear.

When it finally did, the first thing that sunk into Kirk’s brain was how fucking _hot_ it was. He exhaled and lifted his head. He was shocked to be blasted in the face with an unexpected burst of red sunlight. He sat back on his haunches and allowed Uhura to sit up and shake her hair out, sand going flying everywhere.

“Stay down,” Kirk instructed in a low voice. His eyes adjusted to the light in several moments; he was able to see the long stretches of sand on every side of him. “I don’t see anybody.”

Uhura squinted against the light just as a groaning sound came from behind them, deep and pained. Uhura whirled around, her long hair smacking Kirk in the face as she did so. Kirk leapt to his feet and drew his phaser, only to sigh when the sound came from a distressed ensign. As Kirk’s eyes adjusted once more to the new position, he realized his entire Bridge crew was there, save one.

“Spock,” Kirk exclaimed, straightening up. “Shit, Spock-”

“Calm down,” Uhura insisted, her hand warm on his upper arm. “He’s probably still on the ship.”

The beep of Kirk’s communicator sounded off, and Kirk dropped his phaser in his haste to pull it out. He held it to his ear. “Kirk here.”

“Aye, Captain, I was worried out of my mind,” Scotty sighed on the other end, his voice staticky and distant. Kirk laughed.

“Oh, Scotty, are you still on the ship?” Kirk demanded, loud and harsh in the scarlet desert. He turned his face up to observe three ruby suns above his head.

“Aye, Captain,” Scotty confirmed. There was a brief rustling sound. “The entire Bridge crew’s gone, sir.”

“I know, I’ve got them.” _Except Spock._ “Listen, can you get a lock on us?”

“How many of you are there?” Scotty asked. Kirk took a quick headcount, taking careful stock of those who seemed to be hurt and those who were okay.

“Looks like we’ve got eight down here, excluding myself and Mr. Spock. How many can you beam up?” Kirk waved off Uhura’s panicked gestures and Chekov’s worried expression.

“I’ll take six and then two more. Why excluding yourself and Mr. Spock, sir?” Scotty’s voice was a bit more distant as he worked at the controls. Kirk stared out at the expanse of desert before him.

“Because Mr. Spock’s missing, and I’m going to find him,” Kirk informed him. “Get them up safely, comm me if there’s a problem. Got it?”

“Aye.” Scotty’s side clicked out, and Kirk snapped his comm shut. He shoved that and his phaser back into his belt.

“You all are going to go back up to the ship. Chekov, you’re going to help find out what happened,” Kirk ordered. Chekov nodded, his sandy curls a mess. “Sulu, you’ve got the conn until I get back with Mr. Spock. Keep a lock on me, and try to get a lock on Mr. Spock’s location once you’re up there. Understood?”

“Aye,” a chorus of voices replied. Kirk stood off to the side and watched his Bridge crew get beamed up out of the heat. He ripped his Starfleet uniform shirt off, leaving him in his black undershirt. He abandoned the uniform shirt and sat down in the sand to wait for word on Spock’s possible location.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, my chapter titles and summaries are going to be lighthearted, but I'm going to stuff the chapters themselves with pain and confusion.


	6. Underwear and Fulfilled Prophecies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hitzeatur has very little in the way of flora, fauna, and locals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holla

“Captain, can you see a rock formation that resembles a bunch of grapes?” Uhura asked, sounding distracted. Kirk turned to the right and stared into the distance.

“...No?” Kirk shifted his head to the left and held his hand up like a visor to shade his eyes from the sun.

Uhura said something to someone near her that Kirk could not quite hear, then returned. “Chekov says to turn to the left and squint.”

Kirk did as he was told, turning ninety degrees until he was facing his original left and squinting. “Oh, yup, yeah. I see it.”

“You’ve got to go that way. That’s where Scotty thinks-”

“Oi! I _know_!”

“-That’s where Scotty _knows_ Spock is,” Uhura finished. “Once you get there, we’ll see. We’ll beam you up.”

“Why can’t you just beam us up now that you’ve got a lock on both of us?” Kirk inquired absently, even as he started heading in the direction he had been instructed to head in.

“Aye, hand him over,” Scotty’s voice demanded of Uhura. Kirk listened to the static of Uhura’s headset being passed over as he jogged. “Captain, hello. It seems Commander Spock got himself a transport inhibitor, which, as you probably know, does exactly what it says. Whatever’s gone screwy in that man’s head set fire to all that Vulcan logic, I swear.”

“Thanks, Scotty!” Kirk shouted over the roar of heat in his own head. The static returned as the headset was passed back to its owner.

“I’ll be monitoring both your frequencies,” Uhura informed him evenly. She paused. “Good luck, Captain. Bring him back.”

“You got it. Kirk out.” Kirk tucked his comm back into place and took off in the direction he was told. The heat on the planet was tremendous; he learned that in his first minute on the planet, and it grew truer with each step. When one sun fell in the sky, another took its place. The three blood-red suns of Hitzeatur had shifts, it seemed. His sprinting fell to running, which then fell back into jogging; the jogging soon became the fastest walk he could manage. He felt the sun pressing on his shoulders as though he were Atlas, and it the sky. He stripped his undershirt off and tied it around his head to shield it from the worst of the alien sun.

His comm beeped after what he - if his count was correct - was his eight-thousand-and-sixty-eighth step. He stopped and knelt in the sand to answer.

“Hello?” Kirk asked breathlessly.

“Listen, kid,” McCoy began. Kirk easily recognized his friend’s worried voice. “Based on what we’ve been able to gather about the planet, the temps are killer, so we’re going to pull you back up.”

“Like hell you are.” Kirk stood up straight again, his legs protesting tiredly as he did so. He ran a hand over the top of his head, still covered by his shirt. “Listen, I’m going to get Spock-”

“He can handle temperatures like this far better than you can-”

“It’s not even that bad-”

“You’re just human-”

“He’s half-human-”

“He’s also half- _Vulcan_ , you sack of-”

“Bones!” Kirk shouted over his CMO’s protests. “I’m the Captain.”

“I know, you never let me forget it,” McCoy grumbled. Kirk rolled his eyes, even though no one was around to see it.

“I’m the _Captain_ ,” Kirk repeated, “and I’m ordering you to not pull me back until I’ve got the First Officer. Understood?”

“Yeah, but I’m not happy about it,” McCoy agreed after a moment. “Listen, Jim,  if you haven’t already got it, you’re gonna get heat exhaustion soon. If you don’t listen to me right now, I will murder you myself when you get back. Is that _understood_ , _Captain_?”

“Yup,” Kirk replied, starting to walk towards the rock formation again. “What do I have to do?”

“Well, assuming there’s no shade-”

“There’s not.”

“Alright, loosen whatever clothes you can and take off anything else. Taking everything off would be your best bet.”

Kirk looked down at his clothes, his comm still held to his ear. “Can I keep my underwear?”

McCoy let out a long-suffering sigh. “I don’t care, just do what I say, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, hold on.” Kirk set the comm on the ground and stripped the rest of his uniform off, leaving him in his Starfleet-issue boxers. He left his clothes in a messy pile in the sand, grabbed his comm and his phaser, and started walking again. He could feel his skin burning. “Now what?”

“Shit, hold on,” McCoy grumbled at him. There was static for a moment; Kirk kept moving, trying to ignore the oppressive weight that gathered in his legs like irons. “Not this... Shit, not this... There’s not much you can do right now. Listen, touch your skin for me, tell me what it feels like.”

“You wanna buy me dinner first before you start trying to have comm sex with me, Bones?” Kirk teased, even as he swiped his free hand across his bare chest. “Uhh, it’s kinda hot. I was sweating earlier, but not really anymore.”

“That’s just fantastic,” McCoy mumbled to himself before returning his attention to Kirk. “You remember when I taught you to count your own heart rate?”

“Yeah, just tell me when to start.” Kirk pressed the forefinger and the middle finger of his free hand to the pulse point in his neck. Once McCoy told him to start, he counted as he remembered being taught that time he was convinced he was going to die of supraventricular tachycardia. McCoy had him stop after twenty seconds. “About forty, I think. It feels a little fluttery.”

“Yeah, one-twenty’s not healthy,” McCoy snapped at him. “Listen, we’re going to beam you up-”

“Like hell you are-”

“You’re being _irresponsible_!” McCoy growled.

“Well, _you’re_ being callous!” Kirk shouted back, feeling a bit light-headed as he did so. He tipped his head back and took a breath.

“You’re a Captain now, as you’re so fond of reminding me-”

“Bones-” Kirk knelt down in the sand, pressing his palm against his forehead. He breathed through his nose, trying to fight back the nausea building in his stomach. The back of his throat felt thick.

“Listen, I’m your doctor, and I’m-”

“ _Bones_ -” Kirk sat down, flat on his ass, drew his knees up, and stuck his head between them. He wrapped his free hand around his shins, his arm holding his legs to his head. His other hand still held his comm up by his head.

“I don’t hear anyone calling you Dr. Kirk-”

“Bones, I- _shit_ ,” Kirk threw his comm and phaser to the side and leaned up onto his haunches before vomiting into the sand. He coughed twice as he groped blindly for the comm. “Sorry, sorry.”

McCoy was silent for the briefest moment. “Jim-”

“No, Bones, stop, shut up,” Kirk growled, his voice rasping. He snatched his phaser and scrambled to his feet. “I don’t want to hear it. I’m not coming up. Give me... give me another hour, okay? I’ll find him.”

Even as he spoke, Kirk felt a desperate kind of pull in the back of his mind. He lifted his head, turning it to the left on instinct, and picked up nearly immediately on a shape on the sand not too far away. The feeling that something was touching his mind grew stronger.

“I think I see him,” Kirk informed McCoy. “Kirk out.” Despite McCoy’s quick, shouted protests, Kirk shut his comm and took off at a sprint in the direction of the new shape. As he grew closer, he began to make out the distinctive pieces of the shape that undoubtedly became the finished puzzle image that was his First Officer. Spock lifted his head as Kirk approached.

“Captain.” Spock moved to stand on his feet with the kind of effortless, fluid motions that Kirk had only ever found Spock to be capable of. The Captain smiled dizzily.

“Found you,” Kirk murmured before falling to his knees. Spock laid a hand on his Captain’s shoulder and forced them into making eye contact. “You alright?”

“Captain, how long have you been on the planet’s surface?” Spock inquired steadily. Kirk stared at him, not listening to the words, but rather just to his voice. It was soothing. He felt like his mind was detached from his body.

“Where’s your transport inhibitor?” Kirk asked, though the words slurred together. “They’re usually-” and here he motioned with his hands- “you know, big.”

“I have been experimenting with a smaller prototype,” Spock explained patiently, even as he carefully examined Kirk’s burnt skin. He pried Kirk’s chirping comm out of his hand. “Doctor?”

“Damn it, you green-blooded- oh, _shit_ , what happened to Jim?” McCoy’s voice came through on the other end, just the wrong side of staticky. Spock tilted his head up to stare into the sky, as though he could see the _Enterprise_ from his current vantage point. Kirk guessed that he could not. He used Spock’s momentary distraction to lay down in the sand; it felt like the greatest relief on his weary legs. Spock returned his attention to him; Kirk could swear that he felt eyes like lasers boring holes in the side of his head.

“He seems to be suffering due to the extreme heat,” Spock answered, still staring at Kirk. “It seems that leaving him on the surface was an unwise decision.”

There was a beat of silence as McCoy forced himself not to say the first thing he wanted to say. “Listen, can you back off with your transport inhibitor? Scotty can’t get a read on either of you.”

“I have tried, Doctor, but it is still just a prototype, and if it is still active, it will take tools to disassemble it.” Spock’s eyes drifted to Kirk’s as he spoke. Kirk felt his face move into a stupid grin. Spock just kept eye contact. “If you would like, I could back away, but the range seems larger than anticipated and leaving the Captain alone for any length of time seems-”

Kirk heard the comm snap shut just as much as he heard the silence that followed Spock’s unfinished sentence. He struggled to sit up, his arms weak and nearly useless, and turned his face in the direction Spock was now glaring off into. He squinted into the horrendous sunlight and blinked when his eyes focused on the new subject.

There was a group of somethings - the Hitzeaturoids, Kirk guessed - moving towards them at a roughly slow speed. Kirk shoved himself into a sitting position and used Spock to force himself into standing. His First Officer took a step in front of him, acting as a kind of shield; Kirk shoved at him and drew his phaser. He wished absently that he still had his clothes on.

Spock shoved Kirk’s comm into his universal translator - and this caught Kirk’s attention, he could only stare and wonder what else Spock thought to grab - and held it in one hand, his phaser still gripped tightly in the other. The two of them leveled their phasers at the approaching group, though Kirk’s hands shook. He cursed them mentally. Spock extended the universal translator and switched it on.

“Does this thing know their language?” Kirk asked, his voice gravelly and harsh. Spock nodded once, sharply, and took a step forward. Kirk scowled at him and stepped forward until they were side-by-side.

“We do not wish to harm you,” Spock stated calmly. The leader of the pack - now close enough for Kirk to see its face - cocked its head. “We are from Starfleet’s flagship, the _U.S.S. Enterprise_.”

The leader took several steps closer; it had, grasped in one hand, a spear. It motioned with one of its short arms for the rest of the group to stand back. It stuck its spear in the ground and straightened as far as the lump on its back allowed.

“Greetings.” The Hitzeaturoid pack leader spoke with a deep, guttural voice. Kirk was set on edge by the tone of it. “I am Jaagerrufer. I have been sent by Kooginn Hhersonn. Your arrival has been long anticipated.” He raised a short arm and beckoned them forwards. “You will come with us.”

Kirk readjusted his grip on his phaser, not allowing his hands to lower at all, though they continued to shake. His legs felt weak. Spock refused to move. Jaagerrufer pulled his spear from the sand and pointed it, sharp end out, at Kirk.

“You will come with us,” Jaagerrufer repeated. His fingers twitched, and two of the Hitzeaturoids of his pack stepped forward, their spears also raised. Kirk dropped his phaser to the sand, and he folded his hands behind his head, his fingers laced together. Spock let his phaser fall, as well, though he snapped the universal translator back into place. He, too, placed his hands carefully behind his head. The two of them were forced to march off into the distance at the head of the Hitzeaturoid pack, spears pointed at their backs and seemingly no chance of escape.


	7. Vulcan Biology and a Collective Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirk never really got a "birds and bees" talk, and certainly never one quite like this; Spock reliably informs him that the birds and the bees are not, in fact, Vulcans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DAMN but I'm proud of me.
> 
> I'll tell everything at the end, as to avoid spoilers, but please do take note of the fact that I've bumped the rating up to explicit.

Kirk stumbled once, but he caught himself before he hit the fiery sand. The procession halted, their spears flying up to point directly at Kirk, and he raised his hands and met their eyes.

“I’m sorry, I just tripped,” Kirk announced. Jaagerrufer motioned with one arm, and the spears shifted back into their previous positions. Jaagerrufer waved Kirk and Spock forward once more. Spock, his hands half-extended toward Kirk, looked towards the leader of the Hitzeaturoid pack.

“He is not adjusted to a climate such as this,” Spock explained easily. “Would you be adverse to my assisting him to our location?”

Jaagerrufer hesitated before he waved a fat hand, his blunt fingers cutting through the thick air. “No. Go on, help him.”

“Thank you.” Spock moved quickly, shifting to Kirk’s side and hesitating only briefly before he slung Kirk’s arm around his neck and hefted him into his arms as though he weighed nothing. Kirk’s head snapped back, then rolled forward until his ear was pressed to Spock’s chest.

“Spock-”

“Captain,” Spock murmured in a low voice, “I recommend that you do not argue with me at this time.” Spock’s expression softened minutely, and Kirk could only stare at him through the haze that was quickly taking over his mind. “Rest.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Kirk mumbled before promptly passing out.

* * *

When Kirk finally awoke, he was no longer underneath the scarlet sky. Instead, he was staring up at a roof made of wide, aggressively violet fronds. Kirk frowned at them and moved to sit up, but a firm hand on his shoulder guided him back down. The touch stung vaguely, and Kirk wondered how burnt his skin was.

“I advise that you do not move, Captain,” Spock’s voice warned. Kirk let his head fall to the side, his eyes sliding up until he found Spock. His first officer had stripped off his uniform shirt, but his black undershirt was still tight against his skin. His boots were off, but everything else remained on. Kirk’s eyes settled on Spock’s face. His tongue felt heavy.

“Where the hell are we?” Kirk asked, his voice scratching out of his throat. Spock turned away and reached for something behind him. Kirk struggled to sit up again, but Spock was refocusing his attention almost immediately, pushing Kirk back down again and holding a strange-looking clear goblet up to his lips.

“From what I can surmise, they have brought us to a type of hut in which prisoners are held,” Spock informed him. Kirk eyed the strange green liquid in the goblet skeptically.. Spock did not sigh, but it seemed to be a near thing. “I believe it to be very close to Terran water.”

“I trust you,” Kirk assured him before taking Spock’s offered drink. He tipped his head back when he finished, and Spock set the goblet aside. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

“Jaagerrufer assured me that we will be able to present our case to he who he calls Kooginn Hhersonn. From what I have observed, a _kooginn_ is much like a king. Their societal structure very strongly resembles that of Terra’s ancient feudal hierarchy,” Spock explained as he lifted and unfolded his shirt. “I will help you sit up, and I will help you into my uniform shirt. You are unfortunately dressed.”

Kirk looked down at his violently red chest and his black boxers beyond it and remembered that he had, under McCoy’s instructions, left his clothes in the desert. “Yeah. Bones told me to.”

“No matter,” Spock said as he slid an arm behind Kirk’s back and helped him to sit up. Kirk got his first good luck at the hut they were in. It was just one room, and the walls were made of the same horrendously purple fronds that the roof was made of. The blood-red light filtering in through the cracks in the fronds cast the room in an eerie light. There was scarce furnishings; a sort of long, slender cushion made of light blue leaves was laying flat in the sand on the opposite side of the ten-by-ten hut. There was a jug made of the same strange material that the goblet was made of, and it, too, was full of the peculiar green water. Kirk realized he was lying down on a second leafy cushion, and there was a curved disc that strongly resembled the goblet and the jug. In the disc was a serving of strange meat and a strip of damp cloth. Spock pulled Kirk’s attention back and helped him to slip into Spock’s science uniform shirt. Kirk had broader shoulders than Spock; Spock also was a bit slimmer and had a shorter torso. Though Spock was strong, his muscles were long where Kirk’s were bulked. The shirt stretched a bit over Kirk’s shoulders and stuck unpleasantly to his skin, but Spock relaxed visibly once it was on, so Kirk let it slide.

Spock reached over him to pick up the strip of cloth and lay it across Kirk’s forehead. The cloth was beautifully cool, and Kirk could not help but sigh in satisfaction. Spock guided him back down onto his back.

“We are to meet their _kooginn_ once you are well enough to walk,” Spock informed him, his voice quiet. Kirk nodded and let his eyes slip shut.

“I should be fine soon, just give me a minute,” Kirk assured him. He could hear Spock shift in the sand, likely leaning back. He cracked one of his eyes open a bit to eye Spock. “You can sleep or something if you want. I’m good.”

“I am not tired,” Spock replied firmly. Kirk opened both eyes fully again, and noted quickly that Spock’s hands were balled into white-knuckled fists. He turned his face slightly.

“What’s up?” Kirk asked, trying to inject as much _talk-to-me-I’m-your-friend_ and _talk-to-me-I’m-the-captain_ as he could into the two words. Spock did not waver.

“I am concerned for your well-being,” Spock said. Kirk raised his eyebrows.

“I know you’re not lying,” Kirk began, “but that’s not everything.” Kirk shifted until he was sitting up slightly and leaning back on his elbows. Spock pulled the damp cloth off his forehead for him. “Would you like to share with the class, Spock?”

“I would prefer not to,” Spock answered at once, his voice firm. Kirk refused to break eye contact.

“Spock, please,” Kirk said, and Spock seemed surprised. Well, as surprised as Spock ever seemed; one of his eyebrows lifted by a degree, and his lips very nearly parted. His hands unfurled, flexed, then curled back into fists. Kirk catalogued the tiny shifts before his eyes flitted back up to meet Spock’s. “We’ve only got each other right now, alright? I need to know what’s going on with you.” Kirk paused again. “Would it help if I told you that I’ll treat this as totally confidential?”

Spock’s dark, guarded eyes became minutely lighter, and his hands loosened a bit. His eyes slipped from Kirk’s and focused on a point between his captain’s eyebrows. “What I am experiencing is common amongst Vulcans who have come of age.”

When Spock did not continue, Kirk shifted and tried not to frown. “What is it?”

“It has to do with biology,” Spock stated, his voice nearly a whisper. Kirk sat up fully, ignoring the strain in his back as he did so.

“What?” Kirk asked, unsure he had heard correctly. Spock still did not meet his eyes; his shoulders were perfectly straight, every line of his body tensed. Kirk was sure he had never seen his first officer so uncomfortable.

“Biology,” Spock repeated. Kirk nodded once.

“What kind of biology?” Kirk pressed. Spock visibly fought the human impulse to take a deep breath.

“Vulcan biology,” Spock finally forced out. Kirk nodded again and folded his hands in his lap.

“You mean the biology of Vulcans?” Kirk paused, and something clicked in his head. “Biology as in reproduction?” Spock nodded in affirmation, one sharp jerk of his head. “Well, I mean, Spock, there's no need to be embarrassed about it. It happens to the birds and the bees.” Kirk broke out into a wide grin. “Happens to the best of us, you know.”

“The birds and the bees are not Vulcans, Captain,” Spock stated. Kirk fought the urge to roll his eyes, even as Spock continued. “If they were... if any creature as proudly logical as us were to have their logic... _ripped_ from them as this time does to us.” Spock gave in and took a deep breath before continuing. “How do Vulcans choose their mates? Haven't you wondered?”

Kirk shrugged and ignored the way his skin stretched painfully underneath Spock’s shirt. “I guess the rest of us assume that it's done pretty logically.”

“No. No. It is not. We shield it with ritual and customs shrouded in antiquity.” Spock shifted in the sand, his human side showing through in his anxiety and embarrassment, and Kirk resisted putting his hand on Spock’s tensed shoulder. “You humans have no conception. It... _strips_ our minds from us. It brings a madness which rips away our veneer of civilisation.” Spock paused, apparently steeling himself. Kirk did not speak, choosing instead to simply wait for him to continue, which he did after a moment. “It is the _pon farr_. The time of mating.” Kirk raised an eyebrow, but remained silent. Spock finally met his eyes again. “There are precedents in nature, Captain. The giant eelbirds of Regulus Five, once each eleven years they must return to the caverns where they hatched.” He motioned towards Kirk with the strip of cloth still in his hand. “On your Earth, the salmon. They must return to that one stream where they were born, to spawn or die in trying.”

Kirk fought back a smile. “But, Spock, you’re not a fish. You’re-”

“No,” Spock interrupted firmly. “Nor am I a man. I'm a Vulcan.” Spock broke their eye contact once more. Kirk felt a swell of disappointment. “I'd hoped, as a child, that I would be spared this, but the ancient drives are too strong, and I, too, must handle the  _pon farr_ , even though many Vulcans once said of me that my Vulcan blood is thin.” Now, Kirk did reached out and grasp Spock’s shoulder. Spock hardly noticed, his eyes focused intently on the purple wall beyond Kirk’s head. “Eventually, these drives catch up with us, and we are driven by forces we cannot control to return home and take a mate... Or die.”

“Well, Spock,” Kirk began, unsure of how to continue. He wavered for a moment before just plowing on. “Do you... have someone? For this?”

“I once did,” Spock answered. “Her name was T’Pring. Our parents arranged it when we were only seven years of age. It was... less than a marriage, but more than a betrothal.” Spock’s gaze fell to the cloth in his hands. “She had been on Vulcan when-”

Kirk cut him off before he could finish. “I understand.”

Spock nodded, raising his head. Kirk felt as though Spock was looking _through_ him. He shivered, even though a sweat had begun to break out on his skin again. Kirk suddenly felt everything skid to a halt as everything Spock had said sunk in.

“Did you say “ _or die_ ”?” Kirk demanded. Spock continued staring, his eyes boring holes through Kirk’s. Kirk did not back down.

“I am not sure what I am going to do,” Spock admitted. “T’Pring has died, and I can feel the _plak-tow_ inside of my mind. I am almost out of time.”

Kirk’s entire brain screeched to a halt. “This is what the other Spock was talking about, when he said not to wait until the last minute and _you said you wouldn’t_.” Kirk made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat and flipped through his thoughts quickly, as they came to him. There was only the singular common thread of _Spock cannot die_ that Kirk was really picking up on, and he spoke without thinking. “I’ll do it.”

If Spock’s body was tense before, it was almost impossibly stiff now. His light skin was flushed just underneath the surface with pale green, and Kirk could see it clearly this close. Spock shook his head, once, an aborted motion.

“I cannot endanger you in such a way,” Spock forced out, his jaw tight. Kirk reached down, grabbed the hem of his - well, technically Spock’s - shirt, and tugged it off over his head, ignoring the alarms of pain ringing in his head.

“And I can’t let you die, so we’re doing this for you,” Kirk replied firmly. He met Spock’s eyes as he tossed the shirt aside. “Listen, Spock. It doesn’t have to mean anything. You’d do anything to save me, right?” Spock opened his mouth to protest, but Kirk cut him off. “ _Right_?”

Spock hesitated before saying, defeated, “Yes.”

“Exactly,” Kirk said smugly. He tugged at the collar of Spock’s undershirt. “And I’d do anything to save you, so, strip and let’s do this.”

“Jim... If I hurt you, you must tell me,” Spock commanded. Kirk nodded jerkily.

“Yeah, Spock, I will,” Kirk assured him. “I will, alright, I promise. Just- let’s do this, okay?”

Spock made a noise that Kirk took as assent as Spock stood. He turned on his heel and shoved open a panel of the frond-wall, sticking his head out and speaking in a foreign tongue. When he reappeared, his movements far more human and far less smooth than usual, the piece of wall slid back into place. He started yanking his clothes off.

“What was that?” Kirk asked, struggling to stand. Spock moved before Kirk could blink, laying a hand on his shoulder. Without either of them saying a word, Kirk sat back down and just stared up at Spock.

“I informed them that you were not well and that they should, under no circumstances, enter this hut, no matter what they hear or think may be occurring,” Spock explained in a rush. His undershirt came off over his head. His socks came off after that, then his pants. Kirk blinked up at him as he moved down, settling over Kirk’s legs, a warm weight. He grabbed Kirk’s right hand in his left and twined their fingers together. A sharp groan escaped his lips, but Kirk cut it off by shoving his head forward and sealing their mouths together. The groan fell apart on Kirk’s tongue, and he felt Spock’s left hand slide onto his face, his fingertips pressing into his skin like little burners. He immediately felt his mind open to Spock’s, and a wave of sensation flooded him, and _oh, god,_ is this what Spock has been feeling? Kirk felt as though fire was running in his veins, rather than blood.

Spock made an indistinguishable noise and pulled back slightly, seemingly only so he could rest their foreheads together while their minds soaked into each other and became one. Kirk tightened his grip on Spock’s left hand and reached up with his own left hand to grasp the back of Spock’s neck. Spock gasped, as though resurfacing, and pulled his hand from Kirk’s face. Their minds remained connected, and Kirk basked in the feeling.

Spock was tugging their Starfleet-issue boxers off in seconds, breaking his connection to Kirk’s hand as he did so. Kirk dropped his other hand from Spock’s neck and braced both hands behind him, keeping himself propped up so he would not get knocked over. Spock seemed completely lost to him, trapped in his own mind - well, their collective mind, now. Kirk could empathize.

Spock was working a hand down, not between them, but under Kirk’s and was making quick work of him, working him open without a word. Kirk shifted, giving him better access and just letting Spock do what he needed to do. Spock used his other hand to move Kirk’s arms out from under him and lay him down on his back. He added a second finger without delay, and Kirk squirmed, letting out a breathy sound that seemed to please Spock, since his head dropped down to bite at Kirk’s neck.

“Damn, Spock,” Kirk breathed, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Spock made a humming noise and did not break his focus. “Jesus- you’ve _definitely_ done this before, shit.”

“Jim,” Spock murmured, and Kirk froze. “Rest assured that I have not.”

“Yeah, alright, I believe you, I’ll rest assured, keep going,” Kirk urged, his words a slurred stream. Spock did as instructed, and was soon withdrawing his hand and shifting backwards. Kirk stopped him and, ignoring the puzzled look on Spock’s face, spit into his palm and stroked Spock’s dick until it was slick enough to be acceptable.

“Go, go ahead,” Kirk ordered once he finished, Spock nodded once and moved, pushing Kirk’s ankles towards his hips until his knees were perfectly bent. He lined himself up perfectly on the first shot and pushed in slowly, working his way through the haze enough to be aware of Kirk’s human limits. Kirk nodded, grabbing Spock’s hip in one hand and his wrist in the other.

“Go,” Kirk repeating, urging him on. “Move, Spock, go ahead.”

Spock, again, did as he was told, pulling out almost all the way before thrusting back in. Kirk worked a hand in between them, releasing Spock’s wrist as he did so, but Spock just grabbed his hand and tugged it up above his head before leaning down to kiss him ferociously.

“Shit, Spock,” Kirk mumbled into Spock’s mouth. Spock bit at his lower lip and drew his head down to bite at Kirk’s collarbone. Kirk’s hips snapped up involuntarily, and Spock hissed. Kirk tugged his hand out of Spock’s grasp and used it to clasp the back of Spock’s neck, yanking them closer together, needing _friction_. Spock seemed to understand as soon as Kirk did, their minds working together as Spock moved his free hand in between their bodies to jerk Kirk quickly. Kirk knew, in the back of their mind, that there was no way he was going to last much longer-

Spock dropped his head to kiss down Kirk’s chest, biting at the skin now and then, before he dragged his head back up to kiss Kirk again. Kirk was sure Spock was going to have some rough stubble-burn, and the _thought_ of his mark on _Spock_ \- coupled with the way Spock was catching on to what Kirk liked, _damn, he’s a fast learner_ \- was enough to send Kirk over the edge, Spock’s name dying on his lips and his vision going grey. When he came back to himself, his vision beginning to clear, Spock had clearly just finished himself, his forehead pressed to Kirk’s as he caught his breath, his chest heaving.

Kirk could not help himself; he laughed, and the laugh was immediately swallowed by Spock, who dragged their mouths together with the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that came from truly _phenomenal_ sex. That was by no means the longest sex Kirk had over had, nor the most inventive, or even the most exotic, but there was something _different_ about it, something that made Kirk just want to take and give and _destroy_.

Spock was still lazily kissing him, their tongues working together, and Kirk sighed. Spock pulled out, and Kirk made a whining noise into Spock’s mouth. He would have sworn that Spock had nearly smiled at him, except Spock never smiled, so it must have been a trick of the light.

Spock was reaching past him now, grabbing the damp cloth and sitting back to clean them both off. Kirk watched tiredly, his head falling to the side as Spock’s hands ran over his skin far more than probably necessary. He folded the cloth neatly and set it aside - _yeah, that’s Spock,_ Kirk thought fondly - before he shifted to climb off of Kirk. Kirk’s hand shot out, grabbing his wrist and holding him in place. Spock’s brow furrowed, and Kirk’s brain hurried to find the words to the feeling of _don’t go, don’t leave, don’t regret this, please_ that was racing through his body and his mind. Spock seemed to understand without words, pressing his lips to Kirk’s temple before he helped him back into his boxers.

Spock slid his own boxers on and pressed himself into Kirk’s side. He lifted a hand and laid his fingertips down in the same pattern he had not too long ago, and the word _“Sleep.”_ was murmured into Kirk’s temple, and so he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU'LL NOTICE THAT THERE WAS SMUT. *balloons fall from ceiling*  
> You may not know this, but I have never written smut before, for personal reasons. I've been working on this for years, and I finally, FINALLY was able to work past those reasons to deliver this to you.  
> Obviously, if I'm lacking or anything, that would be why. Also, please don't use this as a basis for anything screwing around you're going to do. I don't really know much of what I'm talking about. Pretend I'm good at this.  
> Damn. I'm just super proud of me. I hope that was okay for you guys!
> 
> Okay, also, you'll notice that one of the scenes had dialogue taken from "Amok Time". Ta-da! My own little tribute to TOS. Props to you if you recognized it.
> 
> ALSO ALSO  
> I have begun doing commissions. I'll write whatever you like, just for you, in exchange for currency. Check it out: http://nlmellocommissions.tumblr.com/. Sorry to whore myself out up in here, but the point stands.
> 
> I love you guys.

**Author's Note:**

> Here we are - the start of a book. The final frontier.
> 
> You can follow me on Twitter at [@nicoIodeon](https://twitter.com/nicoIodeon) or on Tumblr at [andillwriteyouatragedy](http://andillwriteyouatragedy.tumblr.com/).


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